


Gee, I Really

by missmollyetc



Category: Bandom, The Cab
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-16
Updated: 2009-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmollyetc/pseuds/missmollyetc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cash + Singer 4EVA</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gee, I Really

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like writing something just off the top of my head. Seriously unbetaed, though I might take it down to futz with it at a later date.

It didn't rain in Las Vegas, or well, it didn't rain that _often_ but it honestly maybe _felt_ like it should have been raining. Like at the end of the movie when the hero runs to the...other hero's house and is all, 'I want to keep you around! Stop making eyes at our drummer, you fucktard! Let's get married and have babies.' Which, okay, the baby part fell down a little, since he was a dude and Singer was a dude and two dudes together didn't make a baby unless there was lot more paperwork involved, but what the fuck ever, they were _legal_ as of last Saturday. And...and the band was sort of like their freaky...mutant baby, and they were in Vegas and the 24-hour Wedding Drive-Thru was, like, not even twenty minutes away by bus and took walk-ins.

Walk-ups. Whatever. Their window was open and Singer didn't look half bad underneath all the bedhead and the braces. He'd look even better spread out in Cash's bed for their honeymoon. Mom was totally cool about letting him have sleep-overs.

Cash pulled the bottom of his t-shirt down over his hips with both hands and kicked Singer in the ankle. Singer squeaked and elbowed him in the ribs. He pushed his hair back behind his ears and started to turn red.

"Say 'yes,' okay? Jesus," Cash muttered, grinning at the registered witness-lady in the window.

She smiled back and balanced the registry on the sill. Her french manicured nails tapped along with the canned wedding march playing on the PA in the drive-thru arch above them. "Take your time, honey," she said. "There's no line yet."

No shit, it was, like, eight o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday. Cash jiggled his left foot and swayed a little. He put his hand over the ring box in his pocket and gripped its sides through his jeans' pocket.

"Look, this isn't..." Singer spun around, putting his back to the window and stuck his arms out at his sides. "This is a moment, okay?" he asked. "I am having a moment here. I can't breath."

"You're being a douche," Cash whispered, stepping forward. "_I_ said it already!"

Singer nodded quickly, jerking his chin up and down and crossed his arms over his chest. "I just...I'm getting married! In my railroad pajamas! To _you!_"

"They're...really...cute?" Cash tried. They actually were, since they were so old that Singer's ankles stuck out a good inch between the hems of his pants and his red sneakers, but they mostly just did great things to Singer's ass. Next to Singer being naked, they were Cash's favorites.

Singer blinked slowly, and his shoulders drew up towards his ears. "That is not the point, Cash."

Cash felt his heart thud against his ribs and shake. "You want to say it, right? You--I--Fuck you, man, we got all this way and--"

"Fuck you! Jesus, can I not take a moment of fucking reflection on my God-damned wedding day? It's kind of a big _thing_ for me!"

"Oh, like it isn't for me? Because I'd like to fucking remind you who was doing the asking around here, okay? Because it was me. And I got you a ring and paid for the bus." Cash poked his thumb into his chest, and then made finger-guns in Singer's face. "Top that."

Singer's big stupid brown eyes popped in his skull. He flapped his hands like he was going to take flight and started to gulp for air, breath whistling slightly through his braces.

"_You_," he began, and then made a high-pitched shriek and stomped off to the end of the drive way.

Cash threw his hands in the air and spun in a circle, groaning. He held his hands, palms out, to the witness lady still leaning out the window with the registry book. "Just, just wait here, okay? We will be right back."

He jogged the twenty feet to where Singer was standing on the curb, gesturing at the telephone pole, and stopped just at the end of the drive way. "Dude, what is your deal?"

Singer whirled around, curls flying, and pointed at him, finger shaking. "It is eight in the morning, we have a record deal, I just graduated high school and I am marrying my bass player in a McDonald's!"

Cash blinked, and glanced over his shoulder. "Dude, this was totally a Burger King, look at the roof."

Singer started to vibrate in place. His eyes got all shiny, eyebrows arching up above them. Cash took a step back, and tried to cover his dick without looking like that was what he was doing. When Singer got actually pissed he either teared up, or kicked people in the balls, or both. It just sucked for everyone involved.

"Don't fucking cry," he blurted. "You know I hate it when that happens."

Singer hiccuped and sat down on the curb. He slapped his palms over his face, and groaned. His shoulder bones stood out beneath the thin cotton of his pajamas, framing the curl of his spine. Cash bit his lip, and glanced back up the driveway to where the lady was waiting, then back to Singer.

"Look, I mean...Jesus, don't...you don't have to," he said. "I guess."

Singer's forehead dropped down to his knees. He hiccuped again, and sniffled. Cash looked down, and scuffed his shoes. Singer mumbled something into his knees. Cash sat down on the curb next to him, but not so close that they could touch. He braced his hands on the concrete, rubbing his fingers into the cracks. He crossed his arms over his chest, and felt a little cold.

Slowly, Singer toppled sideways until his head was on Cash's shoulder. "You didn't answer me," he said.

"When the fuck did you ask me a question?" Cash asked.

Singer bounced his forehead against Cash's chin, and sniffed. "Just now, dumbass."

"Well, I didn't hear you. I was too busy wondering why I ever wanted to marry such a fucking girl."

Singer snorted. He scooted the rest of the way over on the curb until their sides were all snuggled up against each other, kind of like when they were riding in the van. Fuck, Cash missed that van. Touring made so much more sense than trying to live with this dorkwad.

"I asked you...I mean, it's just us out here, it's just...are we even gonna tell anybody? The band? The label? Our moms?"

Cash shrugged with his free shoulder. "Fuck, I don't know, I'm all...what the fuck business is it of their's anyway? I don't want to marry them."

"But you want to marry me," Singer said quietly. "You just don't want to tell anybody."

When he put it like that, it all came out wrong way's up. Cash rolled his eyes. Fucking Singer, he'd _known_ it was a bad idea to let him have time to think. "It's not like I don't get that having two married dudes in a band is weird, okay? But we'd know, wouldn't we? It would be...easier."

"Easier," Singer repeated.

"On the road," Cash said slowly. Why did he always have to explain the obvious shit? "Because then we wouldn't have to worry about being all homesick and shit like...you get. Because we're married so I'm your..."

"Homo?"

Cash smacked him. "_Home_, you dumb fuck, I'd be your God-damned home or some shit, okay? Jesus, you try to do something nice for somebody..."

"But, I mean...you, like, you..." Singer cleared his throat and flapped his right hand in between them.

Cash squinted. Oh. _Oh_. "Yes, you idiot. You think I'd have given you the prime sexual years of my life if I didn't..." he cleared his throat and copied Singer's spastic hand waving.

Singer leaned back. A grin inched its way up his face, sunlight glinted off his braces. "Yeah?" he asked.

Cash groaned. Singer bounced up on to his feet, and dragged Cash upwards with by the collar of his t-shirt. He put both hands on either of Cash's shoulders and leaned in, brushing his lips over Cash's mouth. Cash inhaled, then stumbled back as Singer pushed him back over the curb.

"Race you!" he yelled, and beat a path up the driveway.

"Mother_fucker_!" Cash shouted, and took off after him.


End file.
